Thursday, May 28, 2009

Just a cup of baking powder poured over my top, and I have a gut feeling that I should answer this call, but I was wrong, I am not a pensioner. Just the same, I was driven by the fact that I could make it work, but I was wrong; depressed, wished you were here, well in saying that, I am right, that’s happening right now. Under the roof of a loving mother, enough pocket change to live comfortably and I am mildly-depressed, how dare I? Perfect health and I degrade my mental health, why? Oh well, this begs the bigger question, will it rain on my clothes? Will I need to run out in the stupid rain, grab my clothes and throw them in the dryer risking shrinkage?

It is only a matter of time until I lose my mind, I give it five minutes, but however, my feet are not cold, so I should be fine, sitting here completely un-medicated. Popup: seven days to pay for my back up service, or I shall risk losing all things digitally-dear to me. Right hand, between the middle finger and pinkie, a hole in my new gloves, dangit! Another trip to Kmart is due. These vitamin c tablets you bought me, they surge through, but my nose is still cold, still quite sniffily, but I am not sick, like I said, healthy.

The Hon Kevin Rudd MPPrime MinisterParliament HouseCANBERRA ACT 2600

Kevin Rudd, I may not be dead, but I would like my nine-hundred dollar bonus, please?

Yours TrulyA guy who will vote Labour.

Oh, Kev, I must write you, I must also overcome this dilemma, Michael J. Fox’s: Always Looking Up, or Xbox’s: Assassin’s Creed? Oh, afternoon, how will I spend you? Oh, money, I hope I don’t spend too much of you away on toxic-consumables tonight. Oh, penis, how I could tie a rope around you and jump from a tree. Oh, room’s carpet, when will you be clean? Oh, nights, when will you let me sleep? Oh, job applications, when will you submit yourselves? Oh, blogs, when will they write themselves? Well I don't mind stealing bread. Oh, canned sausages, you are much more appetising than cereal.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Mine, to be more specific; I have always considered myself a romantic, perhaps a romantic that has certain intentions, things that must be crossed off of a list of things to do before I die; it’s a list that has existed since the first grade. Although the list is purely mental, examples of said intentions could range from doing something I often did as a kid, like catching waves at the beach with my girlfriend to simply spending an extended amount of uninterrupted time with a girl I could say I was one with. You see, at seven years-old, the only imminent intention on my mind was getting to the tuck-shop line first and watching The Flintstones on cable, so, I, and everybody else in my grade, was single, as well as the grades below me and most likely even the grades above, but it didn’t mean that I never fantacised about having one, often they were in the form of a Kerri Russell or, appropriately, a Kate Winslet. It was the year of 1997 and this is the year where a very well-acclaimed filmmaker built the groundwork that is the romantic intentions that I live by each day, his name is James Cameron.

In 1997, James Cameron released the highest grossing film to date, a story about a series of disastrous events that come into play around a fantastic love story, the love that was only spent briefly, it was, however, fulfilled to its maximum; the two had the best time of their lives, and I wanted in on it. Perhaps I saw it in theatres, I don’t remember, but the moment that it fell into stores, I do remember it falling straight into our video machine, and from that first viewing ‘til the last, I’d grown up with this movie. My last viewing was only about half an hour ago, the time before the last counts back about eight years. In that extended period of time, with much assistance, I had always wondered how my soft-side was somewhat softened, about an hour before conjuring up the initial words of this blog, I had an epiphany, one that answered that exact question; it was James Cameron’s Titanic.

Perhaps I didn’t take the subtle message of materialism that was scattered all over first class of the cruise-liner, however, what I did take away from the film was a thirst to love and be loved in return (although not knowing what that was at the age, I found out eventually). I wanted the ability to laugh, love and be at a union with somebody…preferably somebody that took on the appearance of co-starring aforementioned Kate Winslet, but nevertheless, somebody. From that time onward, I began with being fond of any of the small amount of girls that I knew, to being a tad more selective, to actually having someone I could correctly label a girlfriend and then to actually having a girlfriend, and that pretty much brings us up to speed. Of course, many scenarios still remain on the list, currently as such: I would love nothing more but to be able to hook in the double-adapter into the headphone jack of my media player and listen to some music while being strictly relaxed, alone and staring into the eyes of a beautiful young female.

To be honest, I am amazed that after around twelve years, I had never realised that something so petty in worth and substance to a viewer, such as myself, has had such a substantial influence on my life and the way that I am romantically. All the times that I have stood in a room and pulled out a big speech conveying my attraction to another, every time I have imagined somebody being with me in lieu of them actually being there, every time I have planned a day in the city to simply impress, every time I have listened to crooner Michael Bublé, or every time I over-did my hair before a casual date, the reasons as to why I have so much to offer was all because of the fabricated love story of Jack Dawson & Rose DeWitt Bukkater. The film’s romance scenes have and always will be my fantasy.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

So, here we are, just when I was thinking that I would never get here, I finished Don’t Make Me, and posted it here. Eight months in the making. You may remember me writing about the writing process of this shortly before my trip to Melbourne, posted here, well, the hard working eight months have paid off and with that payment I have something I would consider a masterpiece in the form of three fifteen liners split up by a repeated chorus. I use the word masterpiece because I think this is the best that I have written so far, to be honest, I thought this one would be a complete failure after trying so hard and so eagerly to get it done over the last few months.

In my previous post, I had mentioned that I will try and keep a healthy balance between song-writing and blogging, and although I will try, I think it is wishful thinking; I personally feel as if my song-writing teenage phase is over, or dimmed, but not dimming, however; I was even writing a now-unnecessary blog titled Song-writing Blows in lieu of even completing the song.

Finally, that song’s load is off of my mind, and I won’t keep you reading my writing related rambling any longer; hope you enjoy the song…or lack of one, if you feel the need to get technical.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

To preface my next and relatively initial series of work related posts, 25th of May marks my two years of employment at Max Brenner’s Parramatta store. The problems I plan to raise in these posts have been consistent or perhaps escalating factors since I even started back in the year 2007, over the years since, I have written many pieces but left them unpublished as I had considered them to be pure complaining which is something I wish to avoid. Case in point, these are my concluding months at Max Brenner, in the light of that fact, me publishing my thoughts is now merely stating the grounds to my resignation, as opposed to simply complaining and not doing what I should about it. Also, with each post, a common quote to begin and another from myself to end it.

In relation to this post’s topic, this is only semi-related to work, but as it is very current, it raises points about my work and has a connection with future posts in this series, here we go.

A few months ago, a customer said to me There is always something here [Max Brenner]; man, she was right in so many ways: I don’t consider myself an overly dramatic person, but I am a tad dramatic nevertheless. Living in the part of this fantastic city of ours, the part that the other parts of Sydney steer clear of, I have had to deal with danger since I was in primary school, and this has built foundations to a promise that I have made to myself, that promise being to avoid dealing with danger lightly, no matter the severity that it could cause. The way I see it is, any small violent matter can quickly escalate, you can’t prove me wrong, it has on multiple and considerably separate incidents, look at today for instance, for this, danger is something to be avoided, not shrugged at.

‘Today? What happened today?’ I assume your pretty little head is asking, allow me to explain, and with this explanation, a timeline to follow it, reverse chronologically cascading every incident that has been at the origins of the Western Sydney suburb of Parramatta and it’s acceptance of scum.

Thurs, 7th of May (Hey, that’s today!)Two people are stabbed; Max Brenner, Parramatta closes for business; store transforms into a crime scene. This is why I am still at home writing this, waiting to be told to come in; initial press release.

Sat, 2nd of May (Wasn’t that only the other day?)Some idiot kid, a Lad as they like to be labelled, walks into our store, walks into our storeroom where our belongings are kept; gets away with around two hundred Australian dollars. The guy was a douche, he left my phone and Mp3 player, but he did get twenty-five dollars from me.

22nd/23rd of AprilThe usual repeat offenders are sitting on our outside seats, causing trouble, like everyday; when I asked them to leave this particular day, I got spoken to in a way that I hadn’t been spoken to since around the time I left high school. The following day, they are outside and I catch them hacking at a table with a fork; I lose it; they leave.

Let me stress, don’t just think I am writing this post on the basis of three incidents, each incident is only an example of something that has occurred on multiple occasions, either being same or similar reoccurrences. Not only that, these three incidents are the only ones I can put a date on because of how recent they are; want to hear what I can’t date stamp?

Using our outside seating area as a hangout spot without paying; this can’t possibly have a date stamp, it’s been happening everyday, weekday or weekend, since the beginning of this school year.

Tables and chairs have been known to be taken a significant distance outside the seating area to their usual hangout spot where each of the two stabbings and all the previous punch ups have occurred.

Probably the most disgusting of all, the smashing and destruction of our property. An incident in early April had me arguing with a bunch of them because when I asked them to leave I discovered a piece of a mug, followed by countless other pieces of crockery and water glasses; they offcourse denied it as they denied forking the table even though I did indeed catch him. This has happened on more than two occasions.

The constant punch ups are a problem in itself.

The general standing around from when school begins ‘til after it finishes.

I guess you can surmise your own thoughts on why they are out there and not at school, the frequency bothers me, though, I often see the same kids not attending school, to be honest; I’d recently eavesdropped on a conversation that one of the girls were having on the bus I catch home and the conversation was a general boast on how she was on a four-day jigging streak; I was not surprised, disgusted but certainly not surprised. The thing that gets me about this situation, okay sure, the store room incident last Saturday was a completely isolated one, probably just the same as the first stabbing a few months back, but everything else I have mentioned is because of this one group of repeat-offenders, the second list is all of their fantastic work.

I don’t have too much more to state apart from the facts of it all, I mean, I am disgusted and utterly confused as to how somebody can sit down at a restaurant (or the equivalent) and deliberately begin smashing crockery, let alone, the question of how somebody sits around for eight hours, five days a week bored as fuck. I could also say that I am truly afraid and a tad paranoid, especially when on the odd occasion they have been there when I have had a midnight finish, this has had a fraction of influence on my upcoming resignation. I also wonder why all of these people come from a common race, I would usually leave it at that for you to make your own assumption, but for those of you that aren’t from Sydney then the mass-majority of them are of Middle Eastern origin. Not too sure if it’s because of the leniency in laws over in Lebanon, or something that is simply passed down from siblings, cousins and friends, but regardless of who from or why, there are only a small handful of them that aren’t trouble, and the Parramatta area in which I live has become a breeding ground for the lot of them, only because it seems as if Westfield and any other corporation caught up in all of this are only enabling them because they either can’t or won’t do anything about it; anyway, it’s all a big disgrace. Fuck, I hate my job.

I'm Ryan.

What I am not is a lemming. Some people live but they do not acknowledge, they see a flaw and yet they simplyaccept it, they know of the wizards in books but not of life or the lessons along the way, they lack the knowledge and appreciation in the intricacies of the world and how they exist inside of it, opinionfails because they fail to voice any, they find bliss in their ignorance by saying ‘such is life’;